


Subway Love

by therearenofriendshipsinuno (dementorsatemysoup)



Category: Cow Chop
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Civilian Trevor, Criminal Aleks, Fake Chop, Falling In Love, First Meetings, GTA AU, Hurt Aleks, M/M, fluff and some angst, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-02-10 11:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12910689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/pseuds/therearenofriendshipsinuno
Summary: Nothing exciting ever happens to Trevor. He spends most of his days going back and forth to a job he hates, dealing with co-workers who don't respect his space, and is holding on by the skin of his teeth until he can finally be free of Jay Norris and his god complex. Then Aleks quite literally drops into his life.His life's about to get a heck of a lot more interesting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said to therearenofriendshipsinuno: idk if youre still takin prompts or not but if u are could you do au w modestHD where everythings the same but trevors not in the crew and hes just a regular civilian? idrc abt the details i just love a Good Boy dating a Scary Criminal
> 
>  
> 
> This wasn't supposed to be this long, but things happen and I dig this story, so thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this :)

Every weekday, Trevor takes The Arrow to work. Seven-thirty sharp, two coffees deep into another boring day, head resting against the window, eyes closed. Nothing exciting ever happens to him unless he counts the number of times Ricki Lukens’ computer contracted viruses because of his porn problem. One time a virus managed to get into the servers and LifeInvader had to be shut down for the day. Trevor still has nightmares about the complaint emails.

Trevor’s boss, Jay Norris is a self-righteous douchebag who thinks he’s God because he invented LifeInvader, and Trevor is just waiting for the day he can quit, but he’s trying to finish his online courses and for all it’s cons, working as an IT guy at LifeInvader does pay better than not having a job so he’s stuck there until he graduates. He’s not happy about it.

Tuesday, like clockwork, he’s on The Arrow, somewhere in the middle, squished between a homeless guy and some woman who’s been texting her husband ever since she sat down. Unfortunately, she’s the type to tell her phone what to say instead of typing it herself so Trevor has had to listen to half an argument for the past ten minutes. He’s getting a headache.

The train starts to slow and, thank God, the woman stands up. She mutters darkly to herself, shoving her phone into her bag, and stalks off the train, her purse hitting the homeless man and waking him up.

“Bitch,” the homeless man grumbles, yawning widely, and stands up. He storms to the end of the train, dropping into an empty seat, and Trevor lets out a breath, stretching out. One more stop to go, maybe he can take a ten-minute nap.

He’s just closed his eyes when someone drops into the seat next to him, stretching their legs out, their knee knocking against his, and he opens one eye, looking over at them.

His bleach-blond hair hidden under a backward ballcap, black sunglasses covering his eyes, flannel sleeves rolled up to the elbows, knees ripped out of his jeans, Trevor can’t tell the exact age of the guy. Everyone in Los Santos seemed to dress this way, regardless of their age. He could be in his twenties, he could be forty; it doesn’t matter, he’s invading Trevor’s space.

The guy leans back into the seat, tilting his head back and resting it against the window, crosses his arms, and immediately starts to snore. Trevor lets out an annoyed huff. There are so many empty seats, why is this dude sitting next to him?

He doesn’t get his nap, more preoccupied with keeping the guy’s head off his shoulder, and is actually grateful when the train stops at his station. He gets up, grabs his bag, and hurries off the train. When he risks a look back at him, Trevor swears the dude is smirking.

“Prick.”

* * *

Friday morning Trevor is running a little late, cursing himself for that late night gaming session he had with his roommate. It’s not like he’s going to get into trouble, Jay doesn’t even bother showing up to the office until well past noon half the time, but Trevor likes to get there before Ricki. Sometimes he uses other people’s computers for his habits. Most of the time Trevor’s. He doesn’t feel like wasting his whole morning reapplying every single one of his antiviral programs to his computer.

The train is crowded when he gets on it, and he’s forced to stand in the back. He checks the time: 8:21. Trevor groans, putting his phone back in his pocket. He should just bite the bullet and buy a car.

The train shakes back and forth and someone accidentally bumps into his shoulder. A pair of hands quickly catch him before he falls over and a guy says, “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Trevor mumbles moving over a bit, accidentally nudging another guy. “Sorry.”

When the train stops at his station, he allows the crowd to sweep him off the car and onto the platform. He’s nudged again, but this time there’s no apology and he rolls his eyes. Typical LS citizen.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out. He furrows his eyebrows when he sees the name on the screen.

_**Text from Prick** : You’ve got a cute butt ;)_

_Who is this?_ Trevor texts back. He doesn’t get a reply, and he knows he should probably delete the number and be done with it, but he shrugs and leaves it.

* * *

Saturday he sleeps in until noon. If he had his way, he would have slept all day, but his bladder is full and his stomach is growling so with a heavy sigh he gets up.

After relieving himself, he stumbles into the kitchen, finding a note stuck to the fridge from Jakob telling him to eat something other than Lucky Charms. Trevor snorts at the note, grabs a big bowl from the cabinet, and pours half the box of Lucky Charms into it. He’s an adult; he’ll do what he wants.

He sits down on the couch, turns on the TV, and loses himself into several episodes of SpongeBob. He really should do some of his assignments, knows he has one or two due at the end of next week, but he’s got all day tomorrow. He’ll be fine.

Jakob comes back around three, sighing when he sees the cereal bowl sitting on the coffee table, but he doesn’t say anything. He sits down next to Trevor, steals the remote, and turns the channel.

“I was watching that,” Trevor says, deadpan, but he doesn’t try to steal the remote back.

“That’s unfortunate,” Jakob responds and they spend the rest of the afternoon watching Animal Planet.

Around five, Jakob gets up to make himself something to eat and Trevor wanders into his room to make an attempt at getting dressed. He notices his phone is blinking and he walks towards it.

He has one missed call from Asher, a couple texts from Ricki ( _what the fuck does he want?_ ) and another text from  _Prick._

_Missed you on the subway today :(_

Trevor starts to type out w _ho is this_ , but deletes it and instead texts:  _Saturday is the day for rest._

 _Isn’t that Sunday?_ Prick texts back almost immediately.

Trevor sends back the shrugging emoji and tosses his phone on his bed. He walks towards his closet, halfheartedly pokes at his clothes, and gives up. It’s after five, he has no reason to get dressed.

He wanders back into the living room, collapsing facedown onto the couch, and immediately grunts when Jakob sits on his legs.

“Do you mind?” He tilts his head so he can look over at Jakob.

“Nope,” Jakob replies shaking his head, shoving a spoonful of food into his mouth. “You wanna watch a movie?”

Trevor sighs. “Sure.”

* * *

Monday morning, Trevor is still playing phone tag with Asher. He tried calling him back Sunday morning before heading to the gym, but he got his voicemail. Asher called him two hours later when Trevor had been in the shower, and he didn’t answer when Trevor called him at six. It’s something they do; they’ll eventually talk.

The subway stops, doors sliding open, and a bunch of passengers leave the car. A few more get on, but for the most part the train is empty, so Trevor can’t figure out why someone decided to sit by him again.

“Okay, call me back I guess,” he says, ending the call, and glances over at whoever sat next to him, sighing softly. It’s the same guy from last Tuesday.

Today he has on a green tank top and brown pants, but he’s still wearing those black sunglasses. He’s underground; why is he wearing them?

The guy pulls out his phone, unlocks it, and starts scrolling through LifeInvader. Trevor rolls his eyes; of course, he has a LifeInvader. Who doesn’t? Even Trevor has one, but he rarely uses it. He’s had enough of that website for a lifetime.

Trevor puts his phone away, leaning back in his seat. He stretches his legs out in front of him and closes his eyes. He jumps when his phone buzzes, his eyes snapping open, and he pulls it from his pocket, figuring it’s a text from Asher promising to call later.

 ** _Text from Prick:_  ** _I think that guy just took a piss in the corner._

Trevor sits up, his eyes scanning the train. He sees the man  _Prick_  is referring to, drunk off his ass and swaying back and forth with the train, trying to zip up his fly before anyone notices, and he quickly looks away, trying to find  _Prick_ instead _._

Everyone seems to be on their phone. Some checking Bleeter, others LifeInvader, a few scrolling through their playlists trying to find the best track to drown out everyone else; only one or two are actually texting but Trevor has a feeling they’re not  _Prick._

He looks back at his phone and types:  _Are you following me?_

He doesn’t get a response, and he lets out a frustrated sigh, shoving his phone back in his pocket. He spends the rest of the train ride watching everyone suspiciously and practically runs off the train when it stops at his station.

* * *

Trevor’s phone buzzes around eleven, vibrating against his desk and startling him out of his bored stupor. He sits up, picking up his phone, and rolls his eyes when he looks at the screen.

_**Text from Prick:** You wanna get lunch?_

His stomach clenches with sudden nerves, eyes scanning the room almost as though  _Prick_  is lurking in the shadows, watching him, waiting with bated breath for his answer. They’re not, of course, Trevor doubts they know where he works. At least, he hopes they don’t know where he works.

He looks back at his phone, types and deletes several responses, and finally settles on:  _I don’t usually get lunch with people I don’t know._

 _Wise,_  Prickresponds followed by,  _I’m Aleks._

He has a name. It doesn’t tell him much, but it’s more information than he had this morning. Trevor taps his fingers against his desk, staring at his phone for a long moment before slowly typing:  _Where?_

He’s not much of a risk taker, the downside of having social anxiety, so Trevor is a ball of nerves when he steps into the small diner. He nearly turns around twice, but he’s made it this far. He might as well see this through.

The place isn’t exactly busy considering it is lunchtime, and most of the customers are old people, but there’s one young guy sitting in the furthest booth from the door. A guy Trevor recognizes immediately.

_Are you kidding me?_

He sighs and walks towards the last booth, stopping right next to the table, and says, “You’re  _Prick_?”

The guy from the train, Aleks looks up and smiles. “Surprised?”

“Well, yeah,” Trevor admits, dropping into the booth across from him, running a hand down his face in exasperation. “How’d you get my number?”

“I stole your phone,” Aleks replies, picking up the menu from the rack on the table. “This place has good burgers.”

“You stole…?” Trevor thinks back to Friday, remembering when that random guy ran into him and apologized. He hadn’t really given it much thought at the time, he gets bumped into all the time, but now it makes sense, and he huffs softly.

“Do you normally stalk people or is this a new thing for you?” he asks, fixing Aleks with an accusing stare.

“I never stalked you,” Aleks says casually, not even looking up from his menu. “You don’t own the subway.”

“But I  _do_  own my phone. Which you stole.”

Trevor can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but he’s pretty sure Aleks rolls them. “I gave it back.”

A waitress walks over to their table, asking them what they want, and Aleks orders a burger. He looks up at Trevor and says, “Order whatever. I’m buying.”

Trevor sighs but picks up Aleks’ menu, glances at it for a few seconds, and orders chicken tenders and a coke. The waitress nods and closes her order book, disappearing into the back.

“At least tell me you’re not a serial killer,” Trevor says slowly, half joking, tapping his fingers against the table.

“Would you believe me if I told you I wasn’t?”

Trevor shrugs, “Probably not.”

“Then I guess we’ll see.”

Aleks isn’t a natural blond; his best friend is named James; he has a dog he loves more than anything; he might not be a serial killer (Trevor still isn’t sure); he’s fun to talk to and Trevor admits he doesn’t even feel bad when he accidentally takes an hour lunch.

He returns to the LifeInvader office with a smile on his face and plans to have dinner with Aleks on Saturday. He’s not even mad when he has to sift through his computer, removing viruses. Ricki could have blown the fucking thing up and he probably would have laughed.

For the first time in a long time, nothing in this place can wreck his good mood, not even Jay playing some techno bullshit for the rest of the day. He even bobs his head to the music.

Just a little.

* * *

They’re not exactly dating. Trevor has no plans to bring Aleks home to his parents (he hasn’t even told Jakob or Asher that he’s seeing someone), and he’s not expecting to be dragged to some random get together to meet Aleks’ friends. They’re just two people having a good time.

It doesn’t stop the way Trevor’s heart clenches with worry when Aleks gets on the train Wednesday morning. His face is full of bruises and his bottom lip is split. His knuckles are bruised, and he’s favoring his left ankle. He literally looks like a garbage truck ran him over and then backed up to finish the job.

“Are you okay?” Trevor asks, hands hovering over Aleks’ shoulder, afraid to touch any part of him and cause him more pain.

“You should see the other guy,” Aleks jokes, chuckling softly, wincing in pain. “I’m fine,” he assures Trevor, giving him a weak smile. “Don’t worry about me.”

“What happened?” Trevor finally reaches out, trembling fingers hovering over Aleks’ lip.

“My own clumsiness,” Aleks replies with a sheepish grin, shrugging his shoulders. “Walked in front of a cab. Probably shouldn’t have been texting and walking. But, you know, this cute guy I’m currently seeing was sending me sleepy morning texts.”

Trevor’s face flushes and he murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

“No, hey, this isn’t your fault.” Aleks takes Trevor’s face in his hands, thumbs brushing his cheeks, and says, “I’m fine. I swear.” He murmurs something in another language, maybe Russian, and softly brushes his lips against Trevor’s, wincing again.

“What’d you say?” Trevor whispers, eyes closed, breath puffing against Aleks’ face.

“I think this is your stop,” Aleks replies and lets Trevor go, leaning back in his seat. “See you later.”

Trevor nods, getting to his feet, and stumbles off the train, heart fluttering in his chest, a fond smile playing across his lips. He might be starting to fall for Aleks; a bit too hard.

_Oh boy._

* * *

Trevor doesn’t make it a habit to wander outside at night. He’s only been living in Los Santos for about a year, but he’s heard how dangerous this city can be, especially once the sun sets, and his biggest fear is running into someone like The Vagabond or Nova down a dark alleyway.

But stuff happens, and he totally loses track of the time hanging out at Asher’s. It’s almost midnight, and he can’t seem to get a cab to stop for him. He curses under his breath, knowing he should have taken Asher up on his offer for a ride home, and thinks about calling Jakob when cold metal presses into the back of his neck.

Trevor tenses up, slowly raising his hands, and he stammers, “I-I’ll give you anything you want. P-please don’t kill me.” He’s trembling, teeth chattering, and he’s not above begging for his life. He doesn’t want to die. He’s not ready to die.

“You Trevor?” An unfamiliar voice asks, and he immediately nods.

“Y-yes. Please don’t kill me.” A tear rolls down his cheek and he wants to wipe it away but he’s afraid to move.

“Relax dude, I’m not going to kill you.”

“Y-you’re not?”

“No.” The gun is pulled away and Trevor swears he’s going to shit himself. The guy laughs, loud and jovially, and he says, “Damn, Aleksandr said you were a civvy, but I didn’t think he was being serious.”

“Y-you know Aleks?” Trevor slowly turns around, body still twitching in fear, and he gets his first look at the guy.

His hair is tied up in a tight bun on top of his head, dark eyes blazing dangerously, a devil may care smirk on his face. He looks like he’s taken a life or two and didn’t think twice about it.

“Yeah, I know Aleks.” The guy puts his gun away, chuckling softly, shaking his head. “He’s never mentioned me? Ever?”

“I don’t even know who you are?” Trevor snaps, wrapping his arms around himself, gripping his elbows tightly. His shaking is slowly subsiding and his fear is morphing into anger.

“Oh, yeah.” The guy rubs the back of his neck, sucking in a deep breath between his teeth. “James.”

“James?”  _This_  is James? “Yeah, Aleks has mentioned you a few times. You always greet Aleks’ friends like that?”

“Friends? You  _sure_  you’re just friends?”

Trevor isn’t sure what he and Aleks are, but he’s not about to admit that to James, so he just shrugs.

James scoffs, rolling his eyes. “It doesn’t matter.” He crosses his arms, eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him, and Trevor shrinks back self-consciously. “You love him?”

Taken aback, Trevor chokes out, “T-that’s not…”

James snorts, tilting his head, and quirks his eyebrows. “Interesting.” He stalks towards Trevor, and for a moment he thinks James is going to attack him, but he walks past him, heading down the street, calling over his shoulder, “You coming or not?”

“What?”

“You need a ride, I have a car. Let’s go before I leave you.”

Trevor almost doesn’t follow him, but he hears a loud crash and quickly chases after James.

* * *

“Hey,” Aleks greets Trevor Monday morning, dropping a kiss on top of his head before sitting down next to him. “You have a good weekend?”

“It was…” Trevor trails off, thinking of the right word. “…interesting. I met James Saturday.”

Aleks stiffens and he numbly says, “What?”

“Yeah. It’s not every day I’m introduced to someone at gunpoint.” He’s trying to sound casual, but Trevor can’t quite keep the anger out of his voice. He’s not mad at Aleks, not really, he’s more angry at the company he has chosen to keep.

“Are you okay?” Aleks scans his body, looking for signs of any injuries, concern and something else, something Trevor couldn't quite pinpoint, blazing in his eyes. “If he hurt you, I’ll kill him.”

Trevor feels his anger slowly ebb away, and he shakes his head. “No, he didn’t hurt me. Scared the shit out of me, but otherwise I’m fine. He gave me a ride home.”

That had been interesting. It had been the most intense silence Trevor had ever sat in; not even the soft indie rock playing from the car’s speakers helped the buzzing in his ears. It had sounded more like white noise than actual music.

“The way you talk about him, I wasn’t expecting…” Trevor gestures with his hand, trying to find the right word.

“Yeah, James is… intense.”

“That’s one way to describe him,” Trevor mutters. He would have said really fucking scary, but he’s Aleks’ best friend. He’s not sure he should be insulting the guy at this stage in their relationship.

“What’d he say?” Aleks asks, curious but also wary, his eyes still periodically scanning Trevor, still looking for signs that he’s been harmed.

Trevor’s feels his face flush, remembering how James bluntly asked if he loved Aleks, and mumbles, “Nothing much.”

“Huh, usually I can’t get him to shut up,” Aleks jokes, but he’s still worried and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’d tell me if he threatened you right?”

“He didn’t,” Trevor insists, offering him a pale smile. “I promise, I’m fine.” He leans forward, pressing their foreheads together, and murmurs, “Thanks for caring.”

Aleks huffs, ruffling Trevor’s hair. “If anything ever happened to you…” he trails off when the train stops, gently patting Trevor’s face. “This is your stop.”

Trevor nods. “Yeah.” Reluctantly he pulls away, getting to his feet, and waves goodbye as he steps off the train.

Aleks is the first person, besides Asher and Jakob, to care about his well-being since he moved to this city, and he can’t keep ignoring the way his chest flutters every time he reminds himself of that, but he tries to anyway.

Nobody said he’s perfect.

* * *

Jakob and Asher are arguing over where to eat when Trevor tells them he’s seeing someone. They both abruptly stop talking, direct their attention to him, and say, “Who?”

“You know, it’s creepy when you two talk together,” Trevor points out and they roll their eyes. “And do that.”

“Who is it?” Jakob demands, waving off Trevor’s comments, practically crawling onto the island so he can grab Trevor’s shirt. “I need details, motherfucker.”

“Hey, hey, let’s not strangle him before he can tell us,” Asher says softly, dragging Jakob away. “But seriously, Trevor, we need details.”

He tells them about Aleks, leaving out the part where James pointed a gun at him, and afterward they say, “We need to meet him.”

“Stop!” Trevor exclaims, covering his ears. “It reminds me of The Shining.”

Jakob shares a look with Asher and then curls his index finger and says, “Redrum, Trevor. Redrum.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Seriously, when are we going to meet him?” Asher asks, pushing Jakob’s finger out of his face.

“Whenever, I guess,” Trevor mutters, tracing shapes into the counter top with his fingers. He’s not aware he’s tracing Aleks’ name until he looks up and sees Asher and Jakob grinning. “What?”

“Were you just tracing his name?”

“What? No.” Trevor’s face turns red and he hops off the stool, nervously pulling on his ear. “I’ll ask him about meeting you two.”

“Okay, Loverboy,” Asher says and Jakob makes kissy faces at him.

“Fuck you two,” he grumbles and storms out of the room, listening to them snicker after him. He needs new friends.

* * *

Trevor snorts awake, unsure what woke him up, only to hear an familiar buzzing. He rolls over, picking up his phone, groaning when he looks at the time. 2:46? Who calls someone at 2:46?

“Hello?” he croaks, running a hand through his hair.

“ _T-Trevor.”_

“Aleks?” He abruptly sits up, suddenly wide awake, worry gripping his chest tightly. “Aleks, what’s wrong?”

“ _Trevor…_ ” his voice is weak, barely above a whisper, and Trevor has to strain to hear him. “ _Trevor… I…”_  he draws in a ragged breath, letting it out, and says, “ _I love you…_ ”

The call suddenly ends.

“Aleks! Aleks!” Trevor gets out of bed, trying to call him back, but it goes straight to voice mail. “No, no, come on.”

He keeps trying until a harsh, nasally voice answers with a sharp, “ _Who is this?”_

“Where’s Aleks,” Trevor demands, not caring who’s on the other end. “Tell me where he is now.”

“ _Who is it?”_  another voice barks in the background, and this one Trevor recognizes.

“Is that James? Let me talk to him.”

He hears the phone get passed to someone new and James says, “ _Trevor? What do you want?”_

“What do I want? Aleks just called me. Is he okay?” Trevor paces across his bedroom floor, fingers trembling so hard he’s afraid he’s going to drop his phone. “What happened?” He’s trying really hard not to think of Aleks’ last words to him.

 _No, not last. Those were not his last words. He’s fine,_  he tells himself,  curling his free hand into a fist, willing himself to stay calm.

“ _Trevor, look man…”_ James’ voice break and Trevor abruptly stops, a shiver racing down his spine. “ _He’s…”_ he hears a shaky breath and then James says, “ _I’m coming to you. Where do you live?”_

 _“What?”_ he hears the nasally guy say in the background, and James hisses something at him. The guy snorts and says, “ _I’m always the last to hear about these things.”_

Trevor doesn’t know why he does it, but he rattles off his address quickly, surprised he can remember it in his panic, and James hums before promising to be there in ten minutes. He ends the call and Trevor quickly gets dressed, rushing out of his bedroom, nearly colliding with Jakob.

“What’s going on?” he asks, rubbing his bleary eyes.

“I don’t, I don’t know,” Trevor replies, running towards the door, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll call you!”

“Trevor wait!”

* * *

James drives in silence, gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are turning white. His shirt is soaked in blood, as is his jacket, but when Trevor asked him why he’s bloody he grunted and didn’t respond.

“What’s going on?” Trevor demands, voice cracking, getting angry with being in the dark. “Is Aleks okay? Is that-” a startling realization washing over him and his whole body goes cold. “-is that Aleks’ blood?”

James doesn’t reply and Trevor lets out a frustrated breath. Why does he even bother asking?

When they pull up to a rundown looking warehouse, James turns in his seat and says, “Has Aleks ever told you what he does for a living?”

Trevor thinks back to every conversation they’ve ever had; ever story and every joke and every intimate moment, and he can’t, for the life of him, remember Aleks ever mentioning a job.

“It, it never came up,” Trevor says slowly, looking down at his lap.

“Look, Aleks  should be the one to tell you this, but since the dumbass…” James breaks off, breath catching, and he clears his throat, forcing himself to continue, “We’re not good people, Trevor.”

“What? What does that mean?” Trevor asks through numb lips.

“I’m not a good person. Brett isn’t. Joe. Lindsay. Aleks.” James’ voice breaks on Aleks’ name, but he presses on , “We’re not good people. The guy you met, the one you’re in love with…”

“I’m not…”

“Don’t lie to me,” James snaps, jabbing Trevor in the chest with his index finger. “Don’t fucking lie to me. He’s been lying to me for months, telling me he doesn’t love you, but I can see it in his eyes. Just like I can see it in yours. And you two may be in love, but he’s also been lying to you, too. We’re not good people.”

“What does that mean?” Trevor demands, wishing he had the strength to break James’ finger. Even if he did, he has a feeling James would just shoot him, and he doesn’t feel like getting shot tonight.

“We’re criminals, Trevor,” James exclaims, voice loud in the confines of the car. He sucks in deep breath and repeats, much quieter, “We’re criminals.”

Several emotions flutter through Trevor’s chest. Anger, worry, concern, fear; he wants to yell at James, accuse him of lying, but Trevor knows, just by looking into his eyes, that he’s not. He’s not lying; the guy he’s been dating for nearly three months is a criminal. One of the people the LSPD warns them to stay away from on the news. Men like Ramsey and Greene, and the dangerous men and women in their crews.

But Trevor remembers the way Aleks looked at him when he told him about meeting James. The way he said “ _If anything ever happened to you”_ before Trevor got off the train. The way he whispered those words in Russian, all those weeks ago; words that he still murmurs against his skin whenever they’re alone; words that he still won’t tell Trevor what they mean, but he has a feeling he knows exactly what they mean because Aleks said them tonight, in English, before his call cut out.

And yeah, when Aleks recovers from what happened to him (because Trevor refuses to believe this is his last night on earth), they’re going to have a lot to talk about, but right now he’s more concerned with seeing Aleks than anything else that has happened tonight.

He meets James’ eyes and says, “I don’t care.”

Surprise flits across his face, and James leans back. “What?”

“I don’t care. We’ll figure shit out at some point, but right now I just want to see him. Can I see him?”

Speechless, James nods and gets out of the car. Trevor follows, looking up at the warehouse, and draws in a deep breath. He has a feeling that, the moment he steps into that warehouse his life is going to change; he just hopes he’s ready for the fallout.

He steps inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow, I didn't think this story would actually get a response, so I am over the moon at the comments and kudos it's gotten so far. Thank you so much, you have no idea how much I love you guys, and I'm seriously going to write a part 2 now. However, before I start part 2, I decided to fill in a few blanks for this story. Just some stuff I wanted to add, nothing major, but I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading :)

Aleks has a car; a nice car. After their first major successful heist, he spent most of his take on a mint condition Vigero he'd had his eye on since he moved to Los Santos. He loves the car; loves taking it out late at night when he can't sleep, windows down, music blaring, wind ruffling his hair. Sometimes he's out all night; has parked his car just outside of the city, sitting on the hood, watching the deep purple sky slowly turn a pale pink. There are more photos of sunrises on his phone than any of his friends.

Driving home from one of these car rides, Aleks stops at a red light, tapping his fingers against his steering wheel, softly singing along to the song on the radio. The light turns green, the car ahead of him pulling forward, turning left, heading home or to work or to wherever civilians go this early in the morning, and Aleks follows, turning his head to glance out his window, smiling when he sees a guy with floppy hair, walking way too fast, accidentally knock into a woman carrying a bag of groceries. Her bag falls to the ground, spilling food everywhere, and he apologizes over and over again as he helps her collect her stuff.

He chases after a run away orange, carrying it back to her, and she snatches it from him, hitting him with her purse, and stalks away. He calls after her, still apologizing, and Aleks has never seen anyone more adorable than this guy. He adjusts the backpack strap over his shoulder, shaking his head. He checks his watch, smacking his forehead, and runs towards the subway.

Watching him run away, Aleks chuckles softly. His laughter cuts off abruptly, seat belt digging into his throat when he runs into the back of the car stopped at another red light.

_Son of a bitch._

* * *

His car isn't badly damaged, more cosmetic than anything, but Aleks still won't see it for another few weeks. He misses his car, misses his late night rides and his sunrises and the fact that he can actually smoke in his car. Brett won't let him, James complains about it too much, and the rest of his crew don't live anywhere near his apartment to actually give him a ride to the warehouse. Without his car he feels stranded, stir-crazy, and he finds himself walking aimlessly around the city more often than he used to; getting lost for hours down random streets only returning home when he needs to feed his dog.

It's Tuesday, about a week after he wrecked his car, and he's wandering around Little Seoul. James promised he had a few jobs coming up, but they're a relatively new crew, and Fake AH owns half the city. Aleks doubts Geoff Ramsey will be happy if their tiny crew intrudes on his territory. Knowing James, these jobs will not only piss Fake AH off, but leave them more broke than they already are, but at this point Aleks is willing to take the chances if it means he's actually doing something other than getting lost in Los Santos.

He kicks a can, watching it bounce off a mailbox and fall into the gutter, sighing softly. He really needs to get a hobby; something to pass the time. Maybe he should start reading or collecting stamps; get his guitar out of storage. Something.

He looks up, squinting, trying to figure out where he is exactly, when he sees  _him._ The cute guy. The one who indirectly caused him to crash his car. He's heading towards the subway, talking to someone on his phone, and a slow smile spreads across Aleks' face.

He follows the guy.

* * *

He's never been this nervous about a date before; at least not since high school. Trevor is everything Aleks isn't; a shy, sweet guy who has no ties to the crime life he has chosen for himself. He really shouldn't be pursuing Trevor, should leave him alone and let him find a nice person, someone who deserves him and isn't going to be the reason he gets shot by some random gang member, but Aleks reminds himself that this is Los Santos, civilians get murdered everyday just for existing. Trevor is in danger the moment he steps outside of his apartment; a stray bullet from a car chase could end his life just as easily as a car losing control, hopping the curb, and crashing into him on the sidewalk. Life is fleeting, and he can't spend it worrying about maybes and what-ifs. He likes Trevor, he thinks Trevor likes him, so what's the problem?

"Who is this guy?" James asks again, lounging on Aleks' bed, playing some stupid game on his phone.

"I already told you," Aleks says, a little impatient, sifting through the clothes in his closet. "He's just this dude I met on the subway."

"The subway?" James looks up from his phone, eyebrows furrowed, irritation flickering in his eyes. "Why the fuck are you still taking the subway? I told you I'd drive you around."

"No you didn't," Aleks argues, giving up on his clothes. Maybe Brett has something he can borrow; or James. He'd ask Joe, but they guy's too small and Aleks doubts he'd fit in his stuff. "You took me to the store one time, complained about the price of gas, complained that I took too long, complained about my smoking..."

"Well, you smoke like a chimney," James mutters, his attention returning to his phone, and Aleks rolls his eyes. "And you  _do_ take forever in the store. It's bread, milk, and cheese. What the fuck else do you need?"

"Okay, you know what, just because you can't cook..."

"I can cook," James grumbles.

"...doesn't mean no one else can," Aleks continues, talking over James, opening his bedroom door.

"Where are you going?"

"I need a shirt."

"You have shirts!"

Aleks ignores him, heading out to the front room to grab his phone. He calls Brett, but he doesn't answer, and Aleks rolls his eyes. He must still be pissed about the soda incident. Aleks told him he'd pay for the damages; besides it's not like Brett's car has leather seats. He's still driving the same piece of crap he's had since college, has probably spilled  _way_ worse than soda on his seats; he's being pissy for no reason.

He throws his phone onto the couch, running a hand through his hair, and yells, "James, can I borrow a shirt?"

* * *

The restaurant is overpriced, too loud, too crowded, and Aleks keeps looking over his shoulder, expecting some unknown enemy to show up gunning for them. He knows Fake Chop hasn't been around nearly long enough to make any sort of long term enemies, but he still can't shake his paranoia.  All it takes is one job, one betrayal, one wrong step in some other crew's territory; he's done enough freelance jobs for other crews to know how easily everything can go to hell.

"You okay?"

"What?" Aleks turns to Trevor, offering him a pale smile. "Yeah, sorry, sorry. What were you saying?"

Trevor looks nice. He's wearing a purple shirt and a black tie, both borrowed from his roommate, and a pair of glasses. He mentioned he'd dropped his last pair of contacts in the toilet this morning, and won't be able to get anymore until Monday after work. If he's being honest, Aleks thinks he looks cute with his glasses on, and when he told Trevor his face turned a startling red and he stammered over his thank you.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Trevor asks, concerned, and Aleks nods.

"I just," he starts, only to pause. He doesn't want to lie to Trevor, that's the last thing he wants to do, but he knows he can't tell him he's a criminal. Not now, on their first date, in this stuffy place full of rich assholes too far up their own asses to care about anything other than stock portfolios and who's driving what or who's fucking their secretary or any of the other stupid shit that the city's elite talk about in their spare time.

They shouldn't be here; Aleks doesn't know why he thought this was a good idea.

He leans over the table, lowering his voice, and says, "Wanna get out of here?"

Startled, hurt flashing in his eyes, Trevor says, "Is something wrong? Did I do something?"

"What? No, no, no you're... you're great. You're..." Aleks trails off, reaching out to run a hand through Trevor's hair, resting his palm against his cheek, smiling at him when the breath catches in his throat. "You're perfect, but this place..." He gestures around them. "I just, I don't know..."

"It is stuffy," Trevor agrees, voice shaky, fingers trembling when he reaches up and gently grabs Aleks' hand, running his thumb over his wrist. "We can leave if you want, but I'm okay with sticking around as long as you're here."

Aleks flushes, smiling down at his lap, and nods. They stay, eat overly priced food, share a dessert, and it's worth the dark stares they get when Trevor makes Aleks laugh so hard he snorts.

Afterwards, he offers to walk Trevor home. The neighborhood isn't too bad, probably one of the safer ones in the area, or as safe as Los Santos can get, and it's not too late. He doubts he'll have to draw his knife, hidden in an ankle sheath, but he doesn't quite let his guard down. This is still LS, shit can happen at any time of day, and he's prepared to put himself between Trevor and any dangers that might befall on them.

"Thanks for tonight," Trevor says softly, his hand brushing against Aleks'. "I had a nice time."

Aleks peeks over at him, offering him a shy smile. "I'm glad." He draws in a deep breath, taking a stab in the dark, and says, "Maybe next time I'll cook for you."

Trevor raises his eyebrows, the left side of his face lifting up in a smile, and murmurs, "Next time? A bit ahead of yourself there, don't you think?" Taken aback, Aleks opens his mouth to back track, but Trevor giggles. "I'm joking. I'd like that."

Aleks playfully nudges his shoulder, shaking his head, unable to fight a smile. "Ass."

They kiss under the streetlight outside of Trevor's apartment building. It's nice, sweet; a far cry from the desperate, groping kisses he's used to getting from the random strangers he hooks up with at the clubs. Afterwards, he promises to call and waits until Trevor stumbles inside before starting the long walk home. He doesn't even try to keep the goofy smile off his face.

* * *

The guy hits him hard, tackling him to the ground, knocking the air from his lungs. Aleks gasps, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath, grunting when a foot connects with his side, sending him sprawling to the ground again.

"O-okay asshole," he wheezes, pushing himself to his knees. "Now I'm pissed."

The guy smirks, cracking his neck, and Aleks barely rolls out of the way when he throws his whole weight at him, scrambling to his feet. His ankle twinges when he puts pressure on it, and he knows had it not been for the adrenaline he would be hurting way worse. He gets in one good hit, the guy's head snapping to the side, his teeth red when he grins, and Aleks mutters, "Shit."

The guy punches him in the face, splitting his lip, and Aleks feels blood dribble down his chin. He's surprised his teeth are still intact, ears ringing, head pounding. He takes another hit to the cheek, this one more of a glancing blow as he brings his hands up to try and deflect it,. The third hit sends him to the ground once more, the back of his head cracking against the sidewalk, and Aleks loses some time.

He comes to a few seconds later to the familiar sound of gunshots. He hears more than sees the guy collapse next to him, followed by three more shots. The guy is either super dead or Superman, and if he turns out to be the second one Aleks hopes god or whoever takes him now because there's no way in hell he's fighting Superman.

"Get up," James barks, hands hauling him to his feet, and Aleks staggers into him, grabbing onto his arm, breathing deeply through his nose, willing himself not to throw up. He's dizzy, sore, and one adrenaline crash away from collapsing to the floor, but he can't help laughing.

"What?" James demands, keeping him upright, unable to keep the worry out of his voice.

"You think Trevor will believe me if I told him I got hit by a car?" he asks, calming down a little, still giggling helplessly.

"You're still seeing him?" They start moving towards the door, the up and down motion turning Aleks' stomach, and he breaths again. He really, really, really does not want to throw up.

"Yeah," he answers, concentrating on the conversation, trying to keep his mind off how dizzy he feels, "why?"

He feels James shrug, can hear the frown in his voice when he says, "Have you told him what you do?"

Aleks pauses for a moment, sifting through the dozens of excuses he's come up with to justify why he hasn't told Trevor about his job yet, settling on:

"It hasn't come up."

James scoffs, and Aleks hears him shake his head. "How long have you been seeing him? Almost a month? What's going to happen when this comes out? Do you think he's going to say 'oh, great, a criminal, let's get married?'"

"James, c'mon." Aleks shakes off James' help, stepping away from him, and says, "This isn't your business."

"It is if this guy gets you killed!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've been distracted," James exclaims, throwing his hands out. "That guy-" he gestures behind him to the dead dude on the ground, "-should never have gotten the jump on you. If you hadn't been texting your boyfriend..."

Aleks runs a nervous hand through his hair, muttering, "He's not my boyfriend."

"Then what is he to you?"

He can't really explain what Trevor is to him; for all intents and purposes they are dating, in a way Trevor is his boyfriend, but he's so much more than that; he's everything to him, and it scares him how much he likes this guy. How much he might... might what? Be falling for him?

Conflicted, unable to give an intelligible answer, Aleks shrugs, unable to meet James' eyes, and he scoffs again, stalking away, yelling over his shoulder, "Let me know when you figure it out!"

* * *

The moment Trevor gets off the train, Aleks lets the panic rush over him, leaning back in his seat, running a hand down his face, wincing when his fingers brush againt his wounded lip. He cannot believe he just said that; how could he say that; what had he been thinking?

 _You weren't_ , he tells himself, his inner voice sounding a lot like James, drawing in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.  _That's the problem. Whenever you're around him you don't think; you only see him and nothing else, and that's going to get you killed._

He closes his eyes, curling his hands into fists, pushing that voice away. He decides he's not sorry for saying it because it's true. It hurts, how true those words are, and he's not going to pretend any longer. He's so tired of pretending.

* * *

Aleks is trembling with barely contained rage as he stalks up the stairs to James' apartment. How _dare_ he point a gun at Trevor. How  _dare_ he threaten him like that; treat him like some common thug that they've decided to do away with; make this his business when Aleks has already told him, time and again, that it has nothing to do with him. Aleks is going to kill him.

He pounds on James' door, wood rattling under his hand, and the moment the door opens he draws back and punches James in the face. He staggers back, fingers swiping across his bloody lip, and yells, "What the fuck, Aleks!"

"You leave Trevor alone!" Aleks screams, stalking across the room, shoving James back a step. "He's done nothing to you!"

Lips curling into a sneer, James grunts, "I see he told you."

"Of course he fucking told me! What'd you think, he was going to lie to me?"

"Like you've been lying to him!?"

Aleks falters, taking a step back, all the fight rushing out of him, and he slumps to the floor, burying his face in his hands. He feels James kneel next to him, a hesitant hand settling on his shoulder, thumb brushing his collar bone. He draws in a deep breath, picking his head up, and whispers, "I can't tell him."

"You're going to have to," James says softly, squeezing his shoulder. "You can't keep lying to him; he's going to find out."

"I know."

James rests his chin on top of Aleks' head, humming softly, and Aleks leans into him, closing his eyes. He knows he has to tell Trevor what he does; has to step up and hope his job doesn't scare him away. He doesn't know what he'll do if Trevor leaves him, and that scares him more than anything.

* * *

He doesn't feel the bullet enter his body, not at first, but when the realization catches up to him he staggers, landing hard on the ground, looking down at the blood blossoming from his chest. Hands shaking, Aleks presses his palm into the wound, pulling it away, looking at the red staining his hand; fascinated by it. He jumps when a hand clamps down on his shoulder, blearily looking up at James' worried face.

"I'm bleeding," he says faintly, showing James his hand, and lists to the side.

James catches him, kneeling down next to him, shrugging his jacket off. He presses it into Aleks' chest, murmuring softly against his hair, begging him to stay awake. He screams for Brett, pressing harder into the wound, jerking when Aleks lets out a pained whimper.

A sudden thought pops into Aleks' head and he whispers, "I-I need to call..." weakly he fumbles for his phone, needing to make this call, knowing he has to say this now before he can't say it.

"What do you need?" W-what's wrong?"

"M-my phone," he whispers and James gets it from his pocket without question, handing it to him, watching worriedly as his bloody fingers scroll through his contacts. He puts the phone to his ear, his hands shaking so bad he's afraid he'll drop it, barely holding back a sob when Trevor's sleepy voice answers.

"T-Trevor..."

" _Aleks?"_ The worry in Trevor's voice hurts him worse than the bullet wound, Aleks' breath catching in his throat. He never wants to be the reason Trevor worries, never wants to be the reason he hurts, but here he is, about to hurt him, all because he'd been too slow. " _Aleks, what's wrong?"_

"Trevor," he says again, weaker this time, his eyes slipping closed. He has to say this; if he's dying he needs to say it. "I love you..." The phone slips out of his fingers, and he leans further into James, feeling himself sink into darkness, hating himself for causing Trevor any pain.

The last thing he hears is James yelling at him to stay awake, and he whispers, "I'm sorry."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise a part 2 and I write this instead... somehow this made sense in my head.
> 
> I have a vague idea for a part 2, but it's nothing concrete enough to actually start writing, so I leave you with this new chapter for now and fingers crossed the next thing I post is an actual Part 2.
> 
> Thank you for reading and leaving comment and kudos :)

James feels Aleks go limp against his chest, his cell phone slipping out of his hand and clattering to the floor, and his breath catches in his throat. For a brief moment he actually thinks Aleks is dead, but he can feel his chest rise and fall under his hand; each struggling breath he takes a puff of air warm against the side of his neck. He's alive; for now.

"Aleks. Aleksandr c'mon." He nudges Aleks, his head lolling onto his shoulder, silently willing him to wake up. He turns, eyes burning and vision blurry, and yells, "Brett! Brett!!"

"I'm here." Brett drops down next to them, resting his palm against Aleks' cheek and turning his head towards him, lightly tapping his face. "C'mon, buddy. Open your eyes. Come on."

"We-We've gotta get him..." James tries to get to his feet, dragging Aleks with him, but his legs give out and he falls back to the ground, gray and black dots swimming around his vision. "Lindsey can... she can..."

"Hey, hey." Brett turns to him, gripping his the shoulder, meeting his eyes. "Breathe, okay? Just breathe. We'll get him help, but you have to breathe."

He nods, struggling to draw in a deep breath. He lets it out, sucking in another one, feeling no less calm but he's certain he can stand up now. Brett lets him go, pushing himself to his feet, and crouches down to gather Aleks into his arms. James almost doesn't let him go, but one look from Brett and he relinquishes his hold, watching him struggle for a moment before straightening up.

"I've got him. You go get the car."

James nods, scrambling to his feet, and hurries out of the garage. He can't believe how badly this job went; six dead, Aleks shot, the money gone; he's never trusting Fake Pine with another tip again.  His hands are shaking when he gets to the car, a shiver rolling down his back despite the unseasonably warm night, teeth chattering. He's so cold, he hasn't felt this cold since the last winter he spent in Colorado. Why is he so cold?

He gets to the car, fingers shaking so hard he can barely unlock the door, but he manages to get inside and the engine started. He drives back into the garage through the open door, stopping directly in front of Brett, and hurries out of the car. He opens the passenger door, pushing the seat forward, and helps Brett get Aleks into the backseat, somehow ending up crammed against the window with Aleks' head in his lap.

"Who the fuck is Trevor?" Brett demands when he gets into the driver side, waving Aleks' phone in the air.

"Don't answer it," James replies and Brett gives him dubious look but nods, tossing the phone into the passenger seat.

"Hold on," he says, backing quickly out of the garage, and soon they're heading back to their hideout.

"You're gonna be fine," James says softly into Aleks' hair. "You hear me. You'll be fine. I swear to fuck, you better be fine." If Brett hears him he doesn't say anything and they spend the rest of the ride in silence.

* * *

James is still surprised Trevor is here, hovering over Lindsey's shoulder, watching her through worried eyes as she tries her best to keep Aleks alive. He expected the kid to run for the hills the moment he told him they were criminals, but he doesn't seem to be going anywhere. James might have misjudged Trevor; he owes him an apology.

"Can you go sit over there," Lindsey snaps at him, pointing towards the couch where James sits perched on the edge of the arm. "You're making me nervous."

Trevor looks like he wants to argue, but the look on Lindsey's face has him nodding and hurrying away, sinking down onto the cushions next to James. He leans forward, burying his face in his hands, and lets out a shaky breath. James hesitates for a few seconds before placing his palm against the back of his neck, squeezing gently in silent support. He feels Trevor go still under his hand and he quickly removes it.

"Sorry," he mutters when Trevor looks up at him, hunching his shoulders.

"What happened?" Trevor asks quietly, choosing to ignore the gesture.

James doesn't answer right away, looking across the warehouse at Brett and Joe, heads bent together, whispering to each other, shooting furtive looks in Trevor's direction. He can tell Brett doesn't want him here, it's obvious with the way his eyes narrow every time they settle on him, but he hasn't said anything. At least not yet. James can feel the lecture coming a mile away.

He turns his attention back to Trevor's expected look and clears his throat. "A job went wrong. We were ambushed."

"A job?" Trevor nods, eyes glazing over, and he buries his face in his hands again. Voice muffled, he bitterly says, "Do 'jobs' always end this way?"

James glares at him, lips curling into a sneer. "You don't have to be here. You're lucky I came and got you."

"Am I?" Trevor picks his head up, face twisted in anger and anguish. "Am I lucky, James? Aleks gets shot and I'm lucky to be here? He could..." he trails off, drawing in a breath and letting it out slowly, blinking away a tear.

"Could what?"

"It doesn't matter," Trevor mutters looking away, eyes settling on Aleks' pale face. He chews on his thumb nail, leg bouncing up and down, blinking away another tear. He jumps up suddenly, running both hands down his thighs, and says, "I gotta go outside. Can I go outside?"

"Yeah." James gestures towards the back, pointing at an emergency exit.

"Thank you." He hurries away, nearly tripping over his feet, and shoves the door open, letting it slam shut behind him.

The moment he's gone, Brett moves towards James, Joe right on his heels, and hisses, "He should not be here."

"Brett, c'mon man..." Joe starts but he ignores him, narrowed eyes locked on James' face.

"Take him home."

With a defeated sigh, James mutters, "He won't leave."

"I don't care," Brett argues.

"Aleks would want him here," James counters, watching the fight leave Brett, his eyes softening as he glances back at their injured friend.

"When'd he get involved with a civilian?"

James watches Aleks' lax face, noting the bloody fingerprints against his cheek, stomach churning. He looks away, eyes travelling up to meet Brett's, and he murmurs, "A couple months ago. They met on the subway."

"Does Trevor know what we do?"

"He does now."

Brett lets out a soft sigh, shaking his head, and walks away. "This is a fucking mess."

"Yeah."

"Hey, man," Joe says, offering James a soft smile. "Maybe you should go home; get changed."

James runs a hand down his face, shaking his head. "I'm not going anywhere. I got shit here. I'll be fine."

"Okay." Joe pats his shoulder, heading towards Lindsey to ask her if she needs help, and James stands up; suddenly restless. He looks towards the back exit, wondering what's taking Trevor so long, and moves towards the door.

He walks outside, stopping in the doorway to study Trevor. He's pacing back and forth, hair sticking up all over the place, phone pressed to his ear. James is too far away to make out what he's saying, but he can tell he's arguing with them. He stops, rolling his eyes, and says something before hanging up. He shoves his phone into his back pocket, letting out a frustrated breath, and covers his face with his hands, digging his palms into his eyes.

"You okay?" James calls, startling him, and Trevor lowers his hands and turns around, shrugging his shoulders. "Yeah, me too."

* * *

Lindsey is able to stabilize Aleks enough to transport him to Fake AH's doctor. Trevor balks when they mention the morgue, but James quickly takes him aside and explains that Burns is an ME. It doesn't help much, and frankly James is tired of being patient with Trevor so he throws his hands up in frustration and stalks away.

It's a night full of waiting. James has never been very good at waiting, he's more of a "take action and think of the consequences later" type of person, so he spends most of the time pacing back and forth, muttering darkly under his breath, shooting dark glances towards the room Burnie and Brett carried Aleks into, fighting the urge to burst through the door and demand to know what's going on.

He looks towards Trevor, who's sitting against the wall with his knees drawn to his chest, head resting against his thighs. His eyes are closed, but James can tell he's not sleeping. Neither one have said much since they've arrived at Burns', there really isn't a lot they can say, but the silence is killing James and he really needs someone to say something soon before he hits something.

"He said he loved me," Trevor says softly, opening his eyes, gaze settling on James.

James stops, looking down at Trevor, nodding slowly. "I know."

Trevor's soft laugh sounds more like a sob than anything, anguish flashing across his face, and he murmurs, "That's the first time he's ever said it."

James hesitates for a second before asking, "Do you love him back?"

Trevor draws in a deep breath and nods. "Yeah, I do."

* * *

He's far from fine, but Burnie tells them that Aleks will live.

While Brett goes outside to call Joe and let him know the news, Lindsey leads James and Trevor upstairs to the room where they're keeping Aleks. He looks small in the bed; pale and fragile swathed in bandages and hooked up to machines. Blood, smuggled out of the hospital by someone Burnie knows, pumps into him from an IV bag, along with enough painkillers to keep him out for a while. James sags against the door, moving enough to let Trevor into the room, and watches the way his friend's chest moves up and down with each breath he takes, curling his hands into fists.

This had been a close call; too close for his liking, and he knows this won't be the last one. It still doesn't stop him from wishing it'd been him in the bed and not Aleks. He'd give anything not to see him like this again.

"Hey," Trevor says softly, leaning over to lightly kiss Aleks' forehead, brushing his hair back. "I'm here." He settles down in the chair next to the bed, gripping his hand between his, and murmurs, "I'm not going anywhere."

James stands in the doorway another few seconds before pushing away and moving across the room, sitting down in the chair next to Trevor's, and leaning forward, clasping his hands in front of him, whispering, "I'm here, too."

They're in the same boat, Trevor and him, waiting for the guy they love to open his eyes. He might not be in love with Aleks, but he's like a brother to James; he'd do anything for him, and if that means sitting here all night, ignoring the urge to go out and shoot something, then James is willing to do this; and if that means he has to do this with Trevor...

He glance over at him, watching the way he leans over and brushing his hair back again, a soft smile on his face.

...he's still not going anywhere.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 is coming... eventually. Until then, please enjoy this apology chapter.
> 
> Thank you for reading and being patient with me, and drop me a comment if you'd like :)
> 
> Bye!!

It takes almost two weeks before Aleks can go home. Sometimes it still hurts to breathe, his chest a mess of stitches and bandages, and he can’t do much more than move from his bed to the couch, but it feels good to actually be home.

It takes another week before James stops hovering, stops treating him like he’s made of glass. James might think this is the first time Aleks has been shot, but he remembers a time back in his early criminal days, before he met James; a job gone wrong, a bullet hole in his shoulder, and a night in the hospital. He barely managed to avoid getting arrested.

Once he’s finally alone, finally able to breathe, he calls Trevor. He remembers, mostly in flashes, Trevor being around the first week after he’d been shot. A constant presence, hovering worriedly over Aleks, talking to him softly until he slipped back into his drug induced sleep. Aleks is still a little pissed at James for telling Trevor about his job, had been working up to doing it himself, but he knows someone had to tell him eventually.

Still, it _should_ have been Aleks.

“ _Aleks?_  Trevor answers tentatively, and Aleks feels his chest twinge with something other than pain.

“Hey,” he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut. It felt so good to hear his voice and be coherent enough to appreciate it. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

Aleks hears the relieved breath Trevor lets out and he nearly cries. He wonders if this is going to become a regular thing, Trevor cautiously answering his calls, fearful of a repeat of their last phone call.

“ _You didn’t_.” Trevor assures him and Aleks lets out a soft sigh. “ _You okay?”_

“Yeah. I just, I was just calling to say hey.” He hates lying to him, but Aleks isn’t sure where he stands with Trevor right now, and he’d rather avoid the conversation a while longer than have to deal with a break up on top of everything else. “Are you okay?”

“ _Aleks, you were the one who got shot,”_ Trevor replies exasperated, and Aleks can hear him pacing. _“You could have died, you know?”_

“I know. God, I know.” Aleks leans back into his couch, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m sorry for bothering you but…”

“ _What are you talking about? You’re not bothering me. Why would you think you were bothering me?”_

Aleks can feel the conversation drifting into territories he didn’t want to wander into, but he feels like he’s gone too far to back out now, so he draws in a deep breath, wincing when the movement pulls on his stitches, and whispers, “You know what I do now.”

Trevor is quiet for a long moment, but finally he sighs and murmurs, “ _Yeah. Yeah, I do.”_

“I wanted to tell you,” Aleks confesses, pulling at the throw blanket laying over the back of his couch. “I had planned on telling you but…”

“ _But what?”_

“I was afraid of losing you.” He curls his hand into a fist, bunching up the blanket, and lets out a soft, humorless laugh. “Selfish, I know.”

“ _Aleks…_

“No, listen, I was, okay? I was selfish and I should have told you from the beginning. It seems stupid now, not telling you, and I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. But I am, Trevor, I am sorry. This wasn’t fair to you, and god I could have died and you wouldn’t have even known if James hadn’t told you…” He lets out a ragged breath, releasing his blanket. “I’m sorry,” he repeats weakly, biting his lip.

He hears a soft knock at the door, jumping, and looks towards it. “Someone’s here,” he says softly.

“ _I know_ ,” Trevor replies, and someone knocks again. “ _Can I come in?”_

Aleks nods before remembering Trevor can’s see him and quickly says, “Yeah, yeah come in.”

The door swings open, and Trevor ends the call. He closes the door behind him, moving slowly across the room, and sinks onto the couch next to Aleks. He offers him a weak smile and softly says, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

For a long moment they just stare at each other, both equally glad to see the other, but Aleks breaks the silence first, murmuring, “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Trevor replies kindly, reaching out to take his hand. “Look, dude, I get that you wanted to protect me…”

“I did,” Aleks says quickly and Trevor squeezes his fingers in understanding.

“But dude…” Trevor sucks in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “You have to protect yourself, too. You think you’re the only one who worries? If anything were to happen to you…”

“I know, believe me I know, and I never wanted to hurt you…” He toys with Trevor’s fingers, unable to look him in the eye when he mumbles, “Can you forgive me?”

Trevor reaches out with his free hand, running his fingers through Aleks’ hair, and says, “Yeah, man, I forgive you.” He smiles when Aleks leans into his touch, dragging his fingers through his hair one more time before dropping his hand and moving around so they're sitting next to each other, bodies pressed together from shoulder to hip.

With a watery smile, Aleks drops his head onto Trevor’s shoulder. “Thanks for picking up.”

Wrapping his arm around him, Trevor drops a kiss onto Aleks' head and says, "Thanks for calling."


End file.
